


In the Tower

by manybees22



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Gen, Mostly Gen, Rating May Change, Tags May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-14 21:14:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28552197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manybees22/pseuds/manybees22
Summary: Caristania Trevelyan has lived in the Ostwick Circle Tower for as long as she can remember. Now that she is out, will she be able to truly leave it behind?
Kudos: 1





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Additional tags, relationships, and characters will be added as appropriate. Will likely change rating to T or M in the future.

Caristania Trevelyan was just four years old when her mother found her playing with the wisps circling her bed. Purple lightning crackled between Caris’ fingers as she drew shapes in the air: first a star, then a heart, and finally a circle that encompassed all three of the light green wisps and drew them towards her. When she noticed Lady Trevelyan standing in the door, a huge smile formed. 

“Mama, come play with us!” She had cried, ebullient, from her bed. She had been ill these last five days with a fever that refused to break, even with ice, elfroot, and the best healer from the Circle. Pale, unresponsive, and very small in her four poster bed, her parents had started to question whether they should invite the Revered Mother to say the last rites and guide their daughter to the Maker’s side. This morning, however, the fever had broken and the youngest Trevelyan was in fine spirits.

Lady Horatia Trevelyan stood, blank faced for a moment, then turned on her heel, slammed the heavy wooden door, and marched down the hall. A plaintive, “Mama?” followed her exit. 

Upon reaching her destination, she crashed through the door and angrily whispered, “Did you know?”

Lord Trevelyan looked up from his notes briefly, saw it was his wife, and returned to his research. 

“Markus, did you know!?” Horatia wailed, tears starting to leak from her eyes. 

“You know I can’t work when you’re shrieking this way, Horatia,” he jotted down one last notation and looked back up at his wife, unimpressed, “Did I know what?”

Horatia sank into a chaise, covered her eyes, and replied, “Your daughter. She is a… a.. She’s a mage.”

Markus paled and abruptly stood from his desk, “What? What do you mean? Elinora, she isn’t… She couldn’t be…”

But Horatia shook her head, “Not Elinora, Horatio, it’s Caris.”

Markus frowned, “This is a poor joke, Horatia. Caris is only four, much too early to be showing signs of magic. She is also very ill. How could you say such a thing? Is this to punish me for not attending your fete last week? You know I was…”

“Markus!” Horatia interrupted, “Caris is throwing lightning and playing with spirits as we speak.”

Seeing that Horatia believed her own stories, at the very least, Markus pushed through the door of his study and marched up into the tallest tower of the Trevelyan estate. It had not made sense to put the youngest child into the tower, but no one had been able to resist Caris’ face when she had pleaded. 

Opening the door with trepidation, Markus looked upon his youngest daughter and sighed with relief. She sat up in her bed, pouting, but with no evidence of lightning, spirits, or other magical nonsense. It seemed to be another one of Horatia’s flights of fancy. 

“My darling, it is so lovely to see you awake,” Markus said, sitting on the end of Caris’ bed, “You had us all very worried. Nurse was loathe to leave your side for the last five days.”

“I know, Papa, she was here when I woke. She said she was going to the kitchen for treats, to celebrate,” Caris glanced up at Markus, tears lurking in her pale eyes, “but Papa, where did Mama go? She left so fast.”

Reaching over to brush her tears away, Markus replied, “Darling, your mother is very confused sometimes. I believe she was just overwrought from your illness. She will rest and be right as rain, you’ll see. Do you believe me, love?”

“Yes, Papa, I believe you,” she brightened then, and said, “Mama didn’t want to, but maybe you can!”

“Can what, darling?” indulged Markus, stroking his daughter’s bright shock of blond hair. 

“Play with my friends!” Caris cried with a smile, as wisps appeared, as if by magic, and danced in the air. She giggled while Markus sat, aghast, with his hand upon his youngest daughter’s head. 

…

It hadn’t taken long after that. The Trevelyans are, after all, a good Andrastian family. The Templars were called. Lord Trevelyan had at least enough influence to request a Trevelyan. Many cousins served in the Chantry, and Ser Padrach, his nephew, was a gentle soul, who Markus knew would care for Caris as if she was his own. When he arrived at the estate, flanked by two other masked Templars, he simply nodded at Markus and asked, “Where is she?”

Markus led them silently into the vestibule off the entrance hall, where Caris, bundled into many layers for the chill Ostwick air, was complaining to her nurse, “But, Nurse, I don’t understand. I was supposed to ride Chubby today, and Tomas is coming home to visit later this week.”

“Well, my little flower,” the nurse replied, brushing Caris’ hair back from her face, tears in her eyes, “I suppose Elinora will have to ride Chubby for you, and Tomas will know where to find you.”

Caris made a disgusted face, “Elinora? She won’t pick out his hooves or groom him right or anything! I think I had better stay just to make sure Chubby is okay.” 

Nurse sighed and replied, “Do you remember what we talked about earlier? Sometimes we have to do things we don’t want to, in order to honor our Maker and his Bride, Andraste.”

Chastened, Caris answered, “Yes, Nurse. I haven’t forgotten, but it’s just…”

“Well then, Lady Caris, you had best button your coat and hug your father goodbye,” Nurse said as she pushed Caris towards Lord Trevelyan. 

Running into his arms, Caris asked, “When am I coming home, Papa? Will it be a long time?”

Aching, Markus replied, “Oh, my darling,” as he scooped her into his arms and squeezed as hard as he could, “I have faith that you will return to us when it is time.” 

He put her down and noticed that she was near tears. He asked, “Caris?”

She looked up at him and replied, “Mama isn’t going to say goodbye, is she?”

Markus, throat clogged and unable to reply, simply shook his head. Nurse bustled over, straightened Caris’ jacket, and said, “No matter, flower, you had best get going. Ser Padrach is here, dressed in all his finery, just to escort you.”

Padrach smiled, knelt down, and held out his hand, “That is just right, Lady Caristania. If you take my hand, my friends and I will take you on an adventure.”

Caris looked suspicious, but curiosity won out. She took his hand, and he began to lead her out. Nurse and Markus followed and, right before they exited, Caris looked back, with tears in her eyes, though, of course, she was too young to understand that she would never be able to return to this place or see her family again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!

The adventure did not last long. The trip across Ostwick, out the double walls, and along the narrow spit of stone that led to the old Tevinter lighthouse was simple, with no problems to speak of. Ser Padrach had tried to make the young Lady Trevelyan smile or giggle or show any type of emotion, but, as soon as they had left the estate, she had shut down, not responding to any of his jests or quips. Even Ser Lester, one of the Templars accompanying them, had tried, and he was known to dislike mages on principle. Padrach supposed that it helped that Caris had shown no magical ability whatsoever thus far. In fact, she looked very innocent at this moment, as she slumbered in Padrach’s arms. 

Lester muttered to Padrach, “We sure we got the right one? She doesn’t look like she could light a candle, let alone summon wisps or conjure lightning.”

Looking at her diminutive form, dwarfed by the coats and dresses put on her by her nursemaid, Padrach had to agree, but replied, “Lord Trevelyan would not have sent for us or sent his daughter away if he was not sure.” 

Lester shrugged and turned to their third companion, a newer Templar named Johan, “Any questions, lad?”

Johan had just turned eighteen, sat his vigil, and received his first draught of lyrium. Padrach thought this may have even been his first mage pick up. Johan paused, a thoughtful look on his face and asked, “... Is it always so easy to get them to the Tower?”

Lester laughed heartily, holding his stomach, “Oh, you innocent, you ain’t seen nothing yet.”

Padrach grimaced. The first time he went out to bring a mage back to the tower, his mentor had ended up run through by an abomination. He replied to Johan, “No, Ser Johan, this is not very typical at all, but the Trevelyans know their duty.”

Lester snickered and said, “You ain’t gonna tell the lad you are a Trevelyan, boy?”

Padrach blushed, but replied, “We renounce our claims to worldly possessions and titles when we become Templars, Ser Lester, as you well know.” 

The good natured bickering continued until they reached the great wooden doors of Faxhold. A Templar called down from the balcony, “You got a live one there, Lest?”

“Open the damned door, lackwit, I’m freezing my bollocks off down here!” Ser Lester replied. The doors groaned open, and Lady Caristania Trevelyan, carried in her cousin’s arms, entered the Circle of Ostwick for the first and last time. 

…

Enchanter Lydia sighed and settled further into her settee, reading Fade and Spirit Mysterious in front of a crackling fire. She had not had this type of freedom or time to devote to simple pleasures for many years, but, luckily, her most recent apprentice, Stefan, had just passed his Harrowing the night previous. It had not always been a sure thing that he would pass, so she was ensconced in her quarters to avoid seeing him and his fellow young enchanters absconding with wine from the kitchens. Let the young ones have their fun and celebrate while they have the chance. 

A gentle knock interrupted Lydia’s thoughts, and before she could reply, the First Enchanter entered her room. Standing up to greet him, Lydia questioned, “First Enchanter Lothaire, what are you doing here? It is quite late.” For you, Lydia did not add at the end. The First Enchanter was a wizened elven man who used his staff as a walking stick rather than any type of tool to channel magic. 

“Ahh, yes. Enchanter Lydia, I must say congratulations are in order. Stefan passed his Harrowing with flying colors,” Lothaire replied while dropping into a chair by the fire and gesturing for Lydia to sit back down. 

“Thank you, First Enchanter, but this cannot be why you came. You congratulated Stefan and myself just this morning.”

Confusion passed briefly across Lothaire’s face before it cleared, “No matter, no matter. That is indeed not why I have come to see you this night. I am here to ask you to take another apprentice.”

Lydia’s eyes widened. It was typical to allow Enchanters to take at least one year between apprentices to allow them to catch up on research and other pursuits. Teaching and molding young magical minds, knowing that these lessons could be the difference between life, death, and Tranquility, took a significant mental and emotional toll. “First Enchanter…” Lydia started. 

Lothaire interrupted, “I know, my dear. You have just finished with Stefan and done a fine job, to all accounts. You have been an excellent mentor since your own Harrowing, just fifteen years ago now. All three of your apprentices have passed their Harrowing, a fine record.” 

“I am aware, First Enchanter, but my research…” Lydia replied. 

“You will still have time to work on your research, Lydia, I guarantee it.”

“How can that be possible? You know that teaching a mage, especially in the few years before their Harrowing, is time consuming. I wish to continue to hone my healing skills, First Enchanter. I have been working on the applications of spindleweed for…”

“Enough, Lydia,” Lothaire held up a hand, “I swear to you that you will have the time. This is not a typical apprentice. She has just arrived at the Tower and will not be ready for formal lessons for some time.”

“If she is not ready for formal lessons, then she is not ready for a mentor or apprenticeship, “ Lydia said heatedly, “This has been dealt with before. When mages arrive, they are given time to acclimate to the Tower. Let this child have the time she needs and then set her up with one of the other Enchanters. I do not understand why you have come to me with this, First Enchanter.”

First Enchanter Lothaire closed his eyes and sighed, then replied, “Because, my dear, she is just four years old.”

Stunned into silence, Lydia stared at him. Seeing her look, the First Enchanter continued, “Yes, I am aware that the youngest recorded age of magical debut is seven years old and that the average age is eleven. Nonetheless, there is a four year old sleeping in the apprentice dormitories downstairs, a wholly unsuitable place, I might add.”

If nothing else, Lydia agreed with that. Most apprentices are teenagers, getting up to all sorts of things that teenagers get up to. But still, a four year old showing magical ability was unheard of, and fascinating, “Are you sure, First Enchanter? This isn’t just the case of some backwater farmhand blaming a child for his chickens dying off? You know that happened two years ago in Kirkwall.”

“Unless you are ready to accuse Lord Markus Trevelyan of being a ‘backwater farmhand,’ as you so eloquently put it, I would say we are dealing with a true magical talent,” the First Enchanter replied dryly. “It is Lord Trevelyan’s own youngest child. He would not give her up if he was not sure.” 

Lydia leaned back against her settee and considered. She had been looking forward to returning to her research, to the greenhouse on the third floor where her plants were lovingly tended, but to be able to witness the magical progression of one so young. It was a true opportunity, one that had not been documented previously. To add something completely new to magical canon was unheard of in this day and age. She had just one more question, “Why me, First Enchanter? There are many more ‘parental’ enchanters who could take this child in hand.”

First Enchanter Lothaire smiled sadly, “You are quite right, Enchanter, there are, but I need someone who will be invested, not only in the child, but in her success. She cannot be coddled. I worry that a talent manifesting so young means that her power will be great. And I know that you will not want your publication to end in this girl’s death or Tranquility. You will do everything you can to get her through her Harrowing, if only to complete research that could change the very foundation of our understanding of magical child development.” 

Lydia was surprised that Lothaire could read her so well, but it did not stop her from agreeing, “Alright, First Enchanter, I will look after this one and see that she develops to adulthood. You are right, the research would not be the same if she did not succeed.”


End file.
